Of fog and wind

August 20/Day 34. Today Hannah moves back to College Station for her second year at Texas A&M. I’m so proud of her! I wish I could be there, but it sounds like she and Jane had a good day fixing up her dorm room. The fact of the matter is, I would have taken this trip last year but I just couldn’t see being gone while sending her off to college for the very first time.

Foggy beach, very windy

Well, the day dawns with crystal clear blue skies and little breeze. After breakfast and coffee, I decide to head for the beach again, this time with my camera instead of the bike. I slog the long mile through deep sand—only to find that the beach is again foggy, windy and cold. It’s very strange. The fog billows over the first high row of dunes like smoke from a brush fire, tumbling and whirling wildly in the wind, but then immediately dissipates.

To seaward, it’s so thick I can barely make out the second row of breakers, let alone see any rocky promontories inhabited by seals. I can hear the fog horn in Bandon, six miles away; I can only see up and down the beach about a hundred yards. And, yes, it’s cold and windy. I’m learning, however, and I brought a heavyweight hoodie, though it hardly keeps the chill away.

I stroll up and down the beach about a mile and see some huge pieces of driftwood; some are whole tree trunks six feet in diameter and the length of a boxcar. Some are massive gnarled stumps, their bark weathered away and nothing but a white skeleton remaining. They’ll all be rearranged this winter when vicious storms pound the coast, lifting them from their sandy moorings and tossing them about. Oh, how I’d love to be here in a cozy seaside cabin to experience one of those epic storms!

This old stump is about six feet across

Yesterday as I was man-handling my bike along the beach trail, I noticed to my dismay that the tires were rotted and cracked through to the fabric binding underneath. I could just see myself coasting carefree down a slope and—BLAM!—a blowout sends me crashing to the pavement. There being no Walmarts in most of these small towns (the locals turn their noses up at them) I had to drive north about 20 miles to Coos Bay to find the nearest bicycle shop.

That chore done, I returned to home, rode the bike around the campground a few times to “break in” the tires, then settled in for some dinner and a good book.

A pretty uneventful day….

I’m missing those long day-hikes in the mountains. But at least I have the Giggle Family to keep me company again tonight.